


Living in the Western World

by twistedingenue



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:32:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedingenue/pseuds/twistedingenue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he lashes out, if he snarls and growls at two of the most important people he's known in his life, everyone understands. They still don't want him to be alone in the small set of rooms they've given to him even with heavy surveillance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living in the Western World

The way they bring in the Winter Soldier is more along the lines of kicking and screaming, and after the blocks and the programming is wiped out of him, it's almost worse. Everything is all mixed together in his head, and he can't keep how he knows Steve and how he knows Natasha. Can't keep the service for his country and the world, and the terrible infliction and the decay of what was left of the good in him stolen away and used apart from each other.  
  
If he lashes out, if he snarls and growls at two of the most important people he's known in his life, everyone understands. They still don't want him to be alone in the small set of rooms they've given to him even with heavy surveillance.  
  


* * *

  
  
"Who the hell are you?" He asks, stopping himself from slamming his coffee cup down on the table.  
  
"Darcy."  The woman is sitting on the couch, dark hair piled on top of her head, at least two layers of sweaters, and she's staring at the television they've set up for him. On the screen, there's a really trashy looking house and some people berating the owners about how clean it should be. She's balancing a laptop on her legs, her feet up on the coffee table.  
  
"That's a boy's name," James spits out, "You don't look like no boy."  
  
"Well damn, better inform my parents, Buchanan. But last time I looked down my pants, I had girl-parts. " She turns her head and damn if she doesn't have pretty blue eyes behind those glasses, "Sit. There." Darcy points to a nearby chair. "And if you aren't quiet, Stark totally upped the voltage on my taser and I really want to try it out."  
  


* * *

  
  
"Why are you even here?" he asks a few days later, when the brunette is still there, still in the same spot on the couch, although now it's old movies and her laptop instead of the bad reality television he was exposed to. Some of the movies even seem familiar, but he's not sure from when.  
  
"My boss is not here right now, I needed someplace quiet to write a paper, and I was asked." She peers over at him, raising her eyebrows and looking him over, "Plus I'm a sucker for science-fiction stories, and you are the very best there is right now.  
  
"Who asked you to be here?" He tries to pin her down by words because trying to do anything physical would probably bring down the entire western world into the room and he'd probably be sent somewhere that isn't so nice, where the bed doesn't have so many pillows. He has to remember that he is part of the western world again.  
  
Darcy rolls her eyes, "Lots of people, but mostly, I wasn't busy and they said you needed company." she shrugs, "I like to be useful."  
  
"So you don't work for SHIELD?" he asks, a little more quiet now and it's almost like a real conversation and not an interrogation at all. For one thing, Darcy doesn't seem interested in anything but her paper and the movies as background noise, and she's really not the sort of person he's used to getting information from.  
  
This is conversation, then.  
  
"No. I work for Dr Foster and I'm a grad student." She shoots a withering look at Bucky, "You do know what a grad student is, right?"  
  
"According to the show you made me watch yesterday, it's a person that pretty much fucks indiscriminately and occasionally talks to professors."  
  
"We also try to score as much free food as possible." Darcy adds, her attention going back to her computer. She types loudly and with purpose, "Oh, and I write papers. Lots of them. I'm pretty sure I've destroyed a rainforest."  
  


* * *

  
  
A few more weeks and he feels almost human again, and he's been able to see Steve and Natasha without feeling like he's betrayed both of them, past and present. He starts shooting again, meets the other residents in the tower and even showers, shaves and gets a haircut.  
  
And every few days, he wakes up in the middle of the night when he wakes up in a sweat and  his hair goes in every direction, and finds Darcy passed out on the couch, the television turned low, black and white reruns of something called I Love Lucy dimly lighting the room.  
  
Sometimes he finds her a blanket, drapes it loosely at least around her bare feet, and its nice to know that he's not alone those nights.  
  


* * *

  
  
"You going to be alright tonight if I'm not around to broaden your entertainment choices?" Darcy says with a smirk, and somehow he's cajoled her into cooking. But she's only made enough for him, doesn't set a place for herself as she's done in the past. He's charmed his way, by smile or scowl into a hot meal a few times. She's not a very good cook, but she moves around the small kitchen with a smile.  
  
"Yeah sure." It's not like she spends all her time here, after all. She goes out with people, there's movie nights and dinners with the team, and he goes to those sometimes too. He's quiet, but argumentative with Steve and one of the few that can pull Natasha out of her calm facade and be almost girlish. He doesn't know how to handle the rest yet, can't fit them into anything he knows. "What's going on tonight?"  
  
Darcy bobs her head, her hair bouncing, broadens her grin, "For the first time in months, I've got a date." she rolls her eyes a little, " I wouldn't say it's a big date, but it's with someone who doesn't work for SHIELD, isn't in my department and isn't someone my mother is trying to set me up with."  
  
Well, a date. That's new. Good for her. He can find something to do tonight.  
  


* * *

  
  
No wait, not good.  
  
Bucky doesn't really know what to do with himself. The shows they usually watch, the ones that provided him with strange contexts to the way people talked and moved, end up being high-pitched noise. The music that's queued up doesn't make sense without Darcy humming or singing along and the sheer volume that is Netflix and amazon instant is just overwhelming.  
  
His life has been about being a weapon. His life is not about making stupid choices like what movie to watch. He knows that Steve would gladly want to hear from him, but he doesn't feel like remembering tonight and that rules out Natasha too.    
  
Everyone he knows is too much with him, knows too much off him, expects so much of him. Except for Darcy, and she's out hopefully being shown a good time.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
It turns out to be another sweat soaked night, where flashes of brown and red hair merge into each other, kill him against a star soaked Brooklyn sky, the way it was before all the lights turned on.  When he walks out into the living room, cradling his head and his eyes barely open, there's no harsh light from the television, no soft music playing.  
  
Shaking his head, he gets a drink, wipes his face and heads back to settle into the couch, and jerks back up when he doesn't meet a cushion, but squishy human instead. Darcy yelps herself awake, and starts batting his back with both hands with incoherent squeaks.  
  
"Why are you even here?" He asks when he's on the floor in front of her, turning his face to look at hers. Her makeup is  blurred and her hair is flat and he thinks he has an answer, "Don't tell me, your date --"  
  
"Was a jerk." She says shortly, closing herself down before he can ask more questions. "I should know better than to date in the hard sciences." While he lifts himself up to sit next to her instead of in front of her, she wipes her eyes, smearing her mascara more.  
  
"Rough." he lets out and a part of him rejoices and the rest of him is screaming. He's pretty sure he used to be a lot smoother than this, but her feet are bare and she looks, she doesn't look sad, she looks disappointed.  
  
"I'm not even sure why I came here, though. But I didn't feel like sleeping in my empty apartment and I walked myself in here instead." she leans forward, her hands on her knees, "It's not like you are where emotions go to die or anything; you've got enough --"  
  
He's stupid. He kisses Darcy. Because this is where stupid ideas go to die. Darcy doesn't kiss back, but she also doesn't break away until he does.  
  
"Huh," she finally says, "Okay. Let's talk about that in the morning. You go back to bed, and I'll be right here when the sun is up."  
  
It's not a no, and that's a point in the favor of living for the western world again.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> oh, I thought. That's a neat prompt I got. I could use a short break from working in either the b-team or At Night files. 
> 
> a prompt fic that got away from me. Original prompt: Bucky has feelings for Darcy but she doesn't seem to notice. Finally tells her when he gets jealous over her dating or slt. 
> 
> Doesn't quite fit, but this is what happened.


End file.
